Toward the taming of the Push-me Pull-Yous

Toward the Taming of the Push-me Pull-yous


they beat me up
they really do
these voices say their
points of view
about how I
(without a brain)
have made mistakes
have caused disdain
I am not perfect
cannot track
they say
so many things I lack
like honesty and
vision clear
and ways to keep
my dear ones near.
They say if I
would only try
I'd never lose
I'd never cry
but that is really
not their fear
they're scared I'll
make you go from here
that you will hate me
or what's worse
you just won't see me
(or this verse)
they think you have
a true surfeit
of friends
in fact
they're sure of it
that you'll decide
way deep within
that I'm one who
is steeped in sin
that God will hate me
God will pour
His punishment
right at my door
He'll say I wasn't good enough
Too soft
He'll say
instead of tough.
They fear that,
Poof!
I will be gone
no one will ever
hear my song
or love me up
or stroke my head
or cuddle me
up in my bed,
so what is I
poor soul to do
except to cling,
eyes closed, to you
and try my hardest
yes, to guess
how I might win
your deep caress
your smile
your invite into love
how can I be your
turtle dove
it sounds quite silly
but it's not
to these young parts
you're all they've got
and they are feeling
very sad
and also very very mad.
They want to
be held and to hold
they want the silver and the gold
the want the up
they want the down
they want the spinning turn around
they want it all to be one place
they think it's not, and so they race
from me to you and back to me
and then to others who they see
that seem to offer what you do
a love that no one can undo
but then it just all starts again
(and feels like this will never end)
They come too close
they stray too far
they wonder who
and where you are
these beat me up's
the ones who long
the ones who try
to keep me strong
so I won't need
the likes of you
but then of course
I always do
and so it goes
all 'round and 'round
and all takes place without a sound
it's inside me
this pitter-pat
of you did this
and you did that;
this wasn't right
that wasn't good,
"You've let them down
misunderstood...
you'll find yourself
alone" they say
with no one who can
really play
they're much too young
to understand
a love lives
deeper
in our land
who does not need
to do it right
who understands
with deep insight
a love who feels
their pain and grief
who can calm fears
and bring relief,
they do not know
it lives within
a heartfelt love
that undoes sin
they haven't yet
been in our hearts
they think they are still
just a part
instead of feeling
deep in there
that love
and then
more love
to share.
I introduce them
just a bit
suggest that maybe they
could sit
here next to me
feel into you
can feel our breath
our heartbeats too
and that's enough
for now at least
they're feeling quite
a bit more peace
and I now tuck
them into bed
remind them of
all that I've said
how love is patient
love is kind
love takes their hand
love makes this rhyme
love holds them when
they're feeling sad
love lifts them up
love makes them glad
love is
one
surprising
Yup!
it says come on
in here and sup
with me
whenever
you feel low
or when it's just
too far to go
all by yourself
all on your own
come rest with me
I'm always home.....

Night time illness

my head it aches
my throat is tight
i might just cough
all through the nite
my mouth tastes like
a garbage can
or silver nitrate
in a gland
i want to write
but i cannot
because my head
is all I've got
the juicy flow
i so count on
it isn't here
it's really gone
so off to bed
i'll take myself
and leave this poem
upon your shelf

open shores

Heated aftermath
bodies under striped umbrellas
massaged by distant whispers
of rhythmic waves
hidden heartbeats
pulsing in counterpoint
all time forgotten

The sense of you

the sense of you
like oysters slurped
swallowed
the salt taste lingering
along my tongue

Our Souls Travel After Death

Our Souls Travel after Death

sensing nothing but terrain
open at first but leading toward
forested hillsides
exquisite pools glistening with memory
and the flavor of those who have
entered in the past,
organic soil rich and composting
without need for human turning
whole cascades of waterfalls
joining a plethora of
multi-directional streams
wandering toward an open sea.
And above tree-line
hovering over those endless pregnant glaciers
frozen in timeless awareness
presaging the uncharted but certain
indigenous thaw
inching over lifetimes
flowing toward renewal.

dreamworld

In the darkening twilight
when the stars like
champagne bubbles
danced into being
infusing the night sky
with our effervescence
I held your hand
remembered your body
against mine
laughed into drunken possibilities

heaven in disguise

hornets spin webbed nests of flame
dash here and there in protest
junipers now lashed and tamed
twist upwards in behest
antelope and tumbleweed
caress the ancient prairie dust
out here a pious wind of need
welcomes lives of fervent lust

calls olly olly oxen free
invites the likes of you and me

Faith in things unseen

one baby birdlette
sensing food is on its way
hopeless siblings cry

Toward Life

In the story
the sick man had five porticoes
from which to choose:
five entrances
into the healing pool.
For thirty-eight years
he'd repeated his inner truth
retold his story of neglect and isolation.
For thirty-eight years he'd waited
longing for some other one
to carry him into the stirred up
water, seen how another
always entered the pool first
leaving no room for him.

And I, for example, sick of my pain
also wait.
Frustrated.
Hopeless.
I cling to my mat of fear,
believing I am unable to stand on my own,
stay stuck beside what I'm sure
is the only place
where healing can occur,
feel certain my burden cannot be lifted
unless I am carried by another.

What if, like the sick man
I truly desired deep healing?
What if I opened to possibility,
became willing to move,
to bring my fear along with me?
Would I turn toward that voice of embodied love
that calls "Stand up, take your mat, and walk."?
Would I risk the fall in favor of the journey?

Mother's Day

That eagle
how did he survive
the vicious swoop and lunge
of those angry crows
trying to save their nesting young
from evisceration
by the raptor's talons?
I stopped to watch
never having seen
one-hundered cawing crows
twisting and dive bombing
before.
But once the cause
of all the fracas became clear
I knew,
understood viscerally,
why those black winged protectors
attacked.


I was late and couldn't wait
to see the outcome.
But walking home, passing again
by the tall fir where the battle had raged
I wondered,
if, as a child,
such a large armament had been amassed for me,
would the one supposed to represent
loyalty and strength,
bravery and redemption,
have been stymied?
Would he so easily
have escaped culpability?

Since you have left us here on earth

Your voice calls to me
like a window in the wind,
an opening toward;
the chiming of a child's discovery:
unspent pennies
in a glass jar beneath the sink:
the promise of things to come.

To those who visit these words: Uncommon Knights

For my friends, Mary and Mindy, with many thanks:

To those who visit these words: Uncommon knights

For you I release the knight watchmen

though hours go by when I require their skill
the way they scan the horizon for intruders
anyone who might mount the castle wall
and attack.

But tonight, after an indwelling supper
prepared by an unknown benefactor
feeling well-nourished, connected and satisfied
aware that all I covet is here, within these walls

I free them from their duty
invite them to put down their swords and armor
bring them, too, into the Great Hall
where you are now also welcomed
to hear the pulsing heartbeat of the banquet band
to partake of the great buffet
to pick and choose what feeds you.
.

Transformation

Everything changes
We separate and return
This is how love grows

When you have gone

When you have gone


It is enough just to follow
heart kisses into rainstorms
licking drops in secret hollows
where dead souls are reborn

It is enough just to open
to storm clouds that hover
drinking in unseen golden rays
promised like lost lovers

Promised rays and lost souls
reborn like a rainstorm
open hearts kissed ten fold
letting new life take form

In the aftermath

In the Aftermath (if you have time, would love to hear which version you prefer)

sometimes it is just living
into the small graces that gets us through:
raindrops on the window,
light from a streetlamp in the misty evening,
memories of hands held in love....
we are who we were meant to be


or


sometimes it is just living
into the small graces that gets us through:
raindrops on the window,
light from a streetlamp in the misty evening,
memories of hands held in love....
wanderers into life's mysteries
passers-by in the stream of embodiment
remembering
we are who we were meant to be